On the Seventh Day
by adogdaylife
Summary: I am just borrowing these characters, they aren't mine. I decided to write a character piece. I don't know if I'll continue. AU Please review.
1. Chapter 1

_**"The angels are incorruptible substances. This means that they cannot die, decay, break up, or be substantially changed. For the root of corruptibility in a substance is matter, and in the angels there is no matter."**_

_**-Saint Thomas Aquinas Summa Theologica**_

The creation of an angel was arguably one of God's greatest works. When an angel was molded, it was done so for a specific job, a specific reason known at that moment only to God. Electric energy was harvested from a body that was not a body, and molded with fingers that were not fingers. An intangible form was shaped, the profile wavering, changing, never the same from moment to moment. Particles knitted together, filled with a power that was indescribable to anything but that which created it. The process was instantaneous and never-ending and when it was finished something remained that was miraculously remarkable. They were pure beings of unthinkable intellect that gladly served God with a love that began but never ended.

Creation was neither pleasant nor unpleasant, it just was. One minute there was a void of matter, and the next it was full of molecules and atoms and existence. All things were created from something and nothing, with force and with ease, with work and with rest. Each day brought something new into focus, the bleariness of emptiness slowly fading. Beasts began to walk the land, swim in the sea, and beat their wings against the currents of air. Plants reached skyward, drinking in the sun, and sleeping in the moonlight. The heavens stretched forever into the Universe, the sea sank into depths unimaginable. When all of the engineering was completed, it was a marvel to behold.

Of course, like all creations, there was a hierarchy; everything had a job and a place within the world. There were angels that were messengers and others that did nothing else but praise God with voices that never stopped. No job was more important than any other job, they were just _different. _No creation was wasted, no energy expelled for no reason. Some angels were slated to last for eternity, some for only a finite amount of time. Through the ages, most never questioned their lot in existence, followed orders without doubt, and believed that their creator, their _father_, knew best.

Nothing was perfect though, even things created from something that conceivably was the definition of perfection. The angels watched on as the world was created, surveyors of God's work, praising the majesty of it. They took in each new formation and proclaimed it good and right, and without fault. When God rested, on that final day, they also rested and peered down from the Heavens, looking upon the humans that God had created from dust and breathed life into. They were small in relation to the world, but the angels knew, be it good, bad, or indifferent, that they were destined for greatness.

Free will was a gift, given by God to humans, and offered to the angels. It was a dangerous gift though; one that complicated reality, muddying the water until something that seemed like a clear choice quickly became the erroneous one. With free will came mistakes, sometimes tragic, mistakes that left you naked and cast out of paradise. When free will was exercised choices were made out of love, pride, and faith, a list of things good and bad, right and wrong. Free will tore up the path that was already built and started another one, one without a clear end, one without a neatly packaged destination.

Free will is where this story begins.

This is the story of the destruction of creation, the beginning of the end, the final realization of purpose. This is the story of the fall of an angel, not out of a lack of love, but because of it. This is the story of Castiel.


	2. Chapter 2

*****Author's note: Some of this is influenced by the book of Enoch.**

**Still don't own the characters. ****

Humans weren't able to handle free will very well. They drank it in big gulps, liquid courage that surged through their veins, sat like lead in the pit of their stomachs. They would set forth on adventures, their heads swimming with bad decisions, their minds blurred by perceived immortality. They became corrupt and sinful, but more importantly, they became disappointing in the eyes of God. These were His creations, a part of Himself. Yet, once they were cast out of paradise, they could not handle the world. They were flawed from the beginning, He realized. By giving them the ability to decide what they wanted, to not blindly follow what He said, He had created that flaw. Now He had to destroy it, start over, wipe the slate clean.

The way humans dealt with free will wasn't completely to blame though. A group of angels, angels that were also exercising their power of choice, went to earth and rebelled. They began to teach mankind trades and tricks, things that man was not prepared to learn. They began to take human wives, impregnating the women and creating a species of beasts, terrible beasts that turned against their mortal and angelic parents. Mankind sobered up quickly and realized their mistakes, but by then it was too late. God had made His decision.

Uriel stood quietly beside Castiel, looking down upon the destruction the rebellious ones had caused. To each other their manifestations were firm and real, no different than two of any creature seeing each other. Their forms buzzed with powerful electricity, the robes draped over their bodies barely containing the radiance they emitted. They each carried six powerful wings that were tightly folded against them, glowing hot with fire. Their brightness, on earth, would have been too much for humans to look upon, but here, where everything burned with pure light, they felt camouflaged. They each had 4 faces that represented the directions of the compass - one of a man, one of a lion, one of an ox, and one of an eagle. They were, in a word, magnificent.

"Father is displeased with what has transpired in His creation, Castiel. He is sending me to find a righteous man named Noah, to tell him that the end is near, and that he is responsible for beginning anew."

"What is Father's plan?" Castiel looked to his brother, his human face tightening. Uriel's face did not change however, his features solid and unwavering.

"He intends to send a flood that will wipe out all that he has done. All of the beasts, all of the humans, everything will be destroyed except for what Noah saves."

They stood in silence for a long time, Castiel lost in the thought of their father destroying the world. He couldn't wrap his mind around it, even his mind that knew all the mysteries of the Universe couldn't understand. It wasn't a human feeling of sadness that he felt, but there was something.

"You understand, Castiel that we tried to save mankind. They pleaded to us, and we listened. Father, believes the damage was too great. Even if it was the fault of the angels."

"What of the angels? Those that disobeyed?" His brother, older than him by an eternity, looked down at Castiel. The lion's face, which he hadn't been able to see at the previous angle, snarled loudly, the roar booming. A sword, forged with and coated in flames, appeared in Uriel's hand. His wings crackled, two of them unfurling to fold over his feet. If Castiel had been able to recognize the change in temperature, he would have noticed that it had spiked at least 100 degrees. It was whispered, among the garrison, that Uriel was unable to show mercy, that he had no pity for those that transgressed. Castiel's question, and the archangel's immediate response, was nothing if not an indicator for this.

"Father is sending Michael and Raphael to deal with them. Father made a hole for Azazel to be imprisoned in, and the rest are to be buried in the ground. They will remain there until the End of Days. Then they will be incinerated in the Great Fire. Do not give them another thought, Castiel, they made their own choices. "

Castiel pondered this for an unknown amount of time. His brothers _had _made their choice, a tragic choice, and he did not pity them. He did not mourn them. He just stared out at the earth and _watched. _

"What is my purpose, Uriel? I watch you, and many from the garrison disappear into their world. I hear the stories of impossible missions. I take a tally of who doesn't come back, and who does. But I don't leave this spot, not even to approach Father's throne. I sing His praises, yet, I do not see Him. I have never been on a single mission."

Uriel turned his human face back towards Castiel, the wings at his feet returning to join the others. His heat softened, the sword of flames dulling.

"We cannot know what our mission is until we receive it, Castiel. Father made you for a reason that only He knows. He doesn't make anything without a purpose. Maybe for now this is your mission, to watch," he stopped, his head tilting slightly, as if he was listening to something," the time has come, I must go." And in an instant, two of his wings stretched to their full length and he was gone.

Castiel was alone, watching the comet of light disappear into the atmosphere. He sighed, releasing his wings, two of them moving to cover his feet and two of them moving to wrap around his faces. He began to pray.

He prayed for days, weeks, and a lifetime. The flood stormed down and receded, and still Castiel sang his Father's name. His brothers and sisters came and went, and he never moved, his body wrapped in an impenetrable cocoon of light and energy. He stayed like that until his name was whispered and shouted all at once, the sound hurting and soothing him at the same time. He could not ignore it, and the voice brought him to his knees, his face burying into the cool soil.

"Come to me, my creation, it is time for you to know your purpose."


End file.
